Page 8 of Sweet Talker

A sound like a low grumble escapes my chest and the atmosphere between us sizzles. “Are you sure about that?” My tone is as playful as hers. I feel compelled to explore where the attraction between us may lead.

For the next few weeks, I’m back to being Brax Phillips the man, not the dad. I have all the time I need to play. All I need is her permission.

“What lines are you talking about exactly?”

“Any lines I don’t want you to cross,” she answers. Her expression promises mischief, and I’m hoping it’s of the erotic kind.

Crossing the line means introducing her to the beastly side of me, and I don’t mean the grumpy bear she’s already seen. There’s a deeper part of me I find myself willing to get in touch with for the first time in a long time. For some unknown reason, she’s waking up that part of my long dormant sexual self, and it’s ready to rise up and consume her.

How the fuck does this woman have me feeling like a beast? A few hours ago, she was shy, and vulnerable. But now…-fuck.

I’d never do anything as crude as what I’m thinking of doing with her, but the strength of the desire surprises me.

“Where might those lines be?” I ask, running my hand along one of the wooden posts of the bed. An image of Sara, naked, with her arms above her head and wrists tied to the posts, pops into my mind. “You’ve already let me in your room.”

She glances coyly over her shoulder and drops her gaze to where I’m adjusting the bulge in my pants. When our eyes meet, I see the same hunger in her gaze as I feel toward her. The sexual attraction between us is so obvious, we grin at each other.

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